


There You Go Again

by MissNaya



Series: The Trouble With Instincts [3]
Category: DCU
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Animal Instincts, Biting, Dubious Consent, Knotting, M/M, Possessive Behavior, fighting-to-fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 11:21:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13739805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissNaya/pseuds/MissNaya
Summary: Bruce is left alone with Jason during one of his heats. As the responsible adult in the situation, it's his duty to handle things. Whether or not he handles them properly is up to interpretation.





	There You Go Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheSecondCircle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSecondCircle/gifts).



> hello hello, 2018! I feel like I've been gone for ages. the writer's block hit me pretty hard this year, so I wasn't able to keep up with my usual posting speed. but fear not! the lovely [undertheglass](https://undertheglass.tumblr.com/) from tumblr helped me break through it by giving me this wonderful prompt to run with. in return, she illustrated some concept art for a few of my fics. go check her out, she's amazing!
> 
> this takes place in the same universe as Fixation and Rules. you don't need to read both of them to understand this; it only mentions Jason's tryst with Slade briefly.

When Bruce’s ever-present earpiece pings him awake, he knows what the security breach is immediately. The manor has plenty of measures to keep people out; most of them involve louder alarms, meant to prepare the whole household in one fell swoop. But this one, silent everywhere except for in his ear, is meant to keep someone _in._

With a sigh, he rises from bed. A quick time check tells him he’s gotten maybe two hours of sleep. Tonight, Batgirl is in charge of protecting Gotham in place of Batman. It’s not ideal, but he brought it upon himself by insisting quite vehemently that Alfred go overseas to spend time with his daughter and enjoy a much-needed vacation. And with Alfred gone, there’d been no one else available to watch Jason.

No one Bruce would trust as far as he could throw them, anyway.

He exits his bedroom, and the stench of an omega in heat hits him square in the face. Jason’s room isn’t even in the same _wing_ as his (partly for this reason), so this month must be an especially bad one for him. And after that first disastrous time, when he somehow managed to wander through Gotham and track down Slade Wilson, of all people, Bruce no longer trusts him to be rational through his heats.

Alfred is usually the one in charge of corralling Jason. As an older alpha, he isn’t plagued by the sex drive that would make ruts a concern, but he still had that alpha tone and presence that made omegas listen. For months, he’d been the one calmly but firmly leading Jason back up to his room whenever he’d try to slip out. This will be Bruce’s first time handling Jason on his own.

The dread sets in the further downstairs he goes. Jason’s smell becomes concentrated enough that he can track his path through the manor. Here and there, an end table or a doorway will particularly reek of it, as if Jason couldn’t resist rubbing himself up against something on his way. Even for an alpha with as much self-control as Bruce, it’s a little much.

He finds Jason shaking the handle of a door that leads to the garage. Instantly, his stomach drops with fear at the mental image of a heat-blind Jason speeding through traffic. The result is a quick, booming loud command, stern and parental in its delivery.

“ _Jason._ ”

Jason immediately spins to face him, back pressed flat up against the wall. One hand continues to grip the doorknob hard enough for his knuckles to go white. A hint of recognition dawns on his face, but as soon as it appears, it's gone again, giving way to a snarl.

He doesn’t speak, so Bruce does.

“Jason, go. Upstairs _._ ”

His alpha tone isn’t much different than the one he uses for Batman. Both are meant to intimidate, to deliver a message quickly and efficiently without room for misinterpretation. But Batman is more cultivated, more conscious; Bruce-the-alpha comes to him by nature, rough and feral and with the promise of teeth.

Jason is familiar with one of those voices. He’s clearly not used to the other, if the way his knees buckle is of any indication. Glancing down at the movement, Bruce sees Jason’s sweatpants already damp with slick. He forces himself to look back at his face.

“Jason,” he says. His repetition of Jason’s name is careful, intentional. It’s meant to ground him, remind him he’s more than just a set of instincts and a growing body. “ _Now._ ”

It doesn’t work. Jason leaps at him with teeth bared, so quick and graceful that Bruce scarcely has time to block the kick directed toward the side of his head. Jason lands surprisingly steady, then comes at him again with a well-aimed fist toward his throat.

“No!” he yells when Bruce swipes his arm away. “Leave me _alone!_ Not the _boss_ of me!”

When Jason keeps fighting even after that, Bruce starts to worry. First, because it means that whatever biological urge or teenage angst Jason is going through is so strong that he’d even fight back against his pack alpha to get his way.

And second, because he feels his own body start to respond to the challenge.

Jason fights like Robin, like he’s in real danger, backflipping and somersaulting and even using nearby knick-knacks as makeshift projectiles. Bruce fights back, not as hard as Batman would, but much harder than Bruce Wayne _should._ He has to use some of his own combat maneuvers to counter Jason’s, and for a brief few moments, it almost feels like they’re just sparring. But then a new, muskier wave of Jason’s scent hits him, and Bruce _growls._

He tackles Jason to the floor, the pair of them colliding hard with the debris-stricken carpet. Jason’s tactics switch immediately. All his calculated martial arts melt into a mess of flailing, growling, scratching, and kicking. He uses every bit of power in his scrawny body to try and throw Bruce off of him. Bruce returns in kind, snapping his teeth, using his bulk to his advantage to get Jason’s lower body pinned. The kid still manages to squirm and turn around underneath him, and even strikes blind with his palm until it collides with Bruce’s chin. His jaw snaps shut with an ugly _crack_ , and he tastes his own blood on the tip of his tongue.

The realization that an omega has just caused him pain shifts into place somewhere in the back of Bruce’s mind. When it clicks, his rational mind temporarily blacks out, leaving only raw, ugly instinct in its place. The next time Jason’s arm flails upward, Bruce grabs it hard enough to bruise and slams it down against the ground. Then he bends down and bites the back of Jason’s neck, _hard._

Jason immediately starts to make a high-pitched, nasally sound, one that might have evoked sympathy from a lesser alpha. But, god, when was the last time Bruce heard an omega whine like that? It spells pure submission, tinged with the undeniable arousal from Jason’s heat. He can’t stand to let up now.

The second Bruce shifts, he feels his cock drag across Jason’s leg. He’s hard. If he had to venture a guess, he’d say he’s been hard since he walked into the room, but this is the first time he’s let himself truly _feel_ it. Caught up in the moment, he gives a shallow few thrusts, but it’s not enough, not through his padded robe and silk boxer shorts. With an eligible omega right beneath him, the friction of his clothes feels akin to sandpaper.

He lets go of Jason’s neck for half a second to re-adjust his grip, and in that time, Jason shifts underneath him, squirming until he has his knees bent and his hips pushed up. Bruce moves with him until they’re slotted together, his cock caught firmly between Jason’s ass and his own stomach.

It, Bruce realizes, is the most archetypal mating pose out there. The kind shown in diagrams when kids take sex ed classes. The first position to come to mind when one thinks of an alpha dominating an omega completely.

He wonders if Slade and Jason fucked like this. The thought makes him growl against Jason’s skin. Jason whimpers again in return, squirming, spreading his legs wider between Bruce’s own.

“ _Please,_ ” he says.

And just like that, all Bruce’s moral qualms crumble into dust and get swept up in the wind.

Without letting go of Jason’s neck, he shoves his pants down with both hands. Turning his attention to his own clothes, he yanks his robe open and pulls his cock from his shorts. When the length of it settles between Jason’s asscheeks, Jason moans, jerking his hips up and down in shallow little movements. It spreads slick along the underside of Bruce’s cock; not much, but hot and wet enough to make him throb.

“Alpha… Alpha… Please, alpha…” Jason keeps repeating, fingers tangled in the plush carpet. Bruce’s chest rumbles with an appreciative growl that makes Jason practically sob. He rocks his hips, more to feel the heat of Jason’s body than anything.

It’s intoxicating, having an omega trapped underneath him. He’s slept with a lot of people to keep up with appearances, but those encounters are, by nature, insincere. Bruce Wayne as the public knows him is a “modern” alpha, a civilized and charming one who doesn’t get much rougher than your average romance novel hero. He ravishes his partners, pampers them, and never leaves more than a few little pink hickeys by the time the whole thing’s done. All his life, he’s struggled to keep his baser instincts in check; just like Batman has to tamp down on his urge to go too far in combat, Bruce Wayne does the same thing in bed.

And, in the same vein as Batman occasionally slipping up and leaving someone in a full-body cast, Bruce forgets to check himself before lining up and pressing as much of his cock into Jason as he can fit.

Whatever Jason’s been doing in the interim between sleeping with Slade and spreading his legs tonight, it hasn't been enough. Bruce can tell he’s not prepared to take someone as big and thick as he is. He only gets about a third of the way in before Jason's muscles clench and stop him. Were he thinking straight, he would pull out, finger Jason properly, let him become accustomed to the stretch. But now, filled to the brim with lust he’s been repressing for who knows how long, he can’t fathom leaving Jason’s warm, wet heat. He bears down with his hips until Jason starts to keen, at which point he lets go of his neck and starts to lap at the bite marks.

It doesn’t take long for the soothing gesture to ease some of the tension in Jason’s body. Bruce gives a throaty growl and covers one of Jason’s hands with his own, threading their fingers together. When Jason’s whines taper off into soundless little breaths, Bruce bites down again and starts to move. This time, just over half of his cock slides inside before he feels any resistance. Jason is slick inside, so much so that Bruce can hear himself move when he starts to rock back and forth. That scent, so potent and uniquely _Jason_ , fills his flared nostrils and clouds his mind more than any drink or drug ever could.

It’s much easier to work the rest of his cock inside after that. Occasionally, Jason squirms or yelps or scrambles for purchase with his toes against the carpet, but Bruce is steady and unyielding, and eventually finds his pelvis flush with Jason’s ass. The feeling of every bit of his length wrapped in that tight heat is almost too much to stand. He yanks back a few inches before a proper knot can form, then begins to fuck Jason in earnest, filling the room with the sound of wet slaps and strangled moans.

Jason is loud, so loud that it almost hurts Bruce’s ears. It’s a good kind of hurt, though, the kind that makes his heart flutter with its intensity — and Bruce’s heart _never_ flutters. The mere thought of other alphas nearby, of _Slade_ listening in, riles up the part of him that’s determined to win above everything else. Bruce Wayne has status, power, wealth, and an entire alternate identity based around his ability to intimidate and dominate. The only thing he’s never let himself have is an omega to rule over completely.

Dick satisfied some of that urge for a while. But only when he was younger, only when he was prepubescent. And back then, it wasn’t about sex, but rather the need to nurture and guide someone else. Then he grew up, got taller and wider and started to stink of a fellow alpha, and everything went downhill from there.

Robin shouldn’t be his outlet. _Jason_ shouldn’t. Bruce knows that, he does. But right now, with his cock deep inside Jason, the boy howling for more, begging with every stuttering breath for his knot… Now, he doesn’t really care.

Jason’s moans start to reach a crescendo. He’s tearing up bits of the carpet with his one free hand, leaving ugly bald spots on the carpet. Bruce’s spit is dripping past his teeth, down Jason’s neck, like he’s a rabid dog who can’t stop drooling. The wet _schlk-schlk-schlk_ sounds of their coupling make his head spin, so unabashed and real and _dirty,_ and Bruce goes harder, faster, until he feels resistance when he tries to tug himself back. He gives in to his building orgasm entirely, lets himself push down and pump Jason full of his seed. Jason’s inner walls squeeze Bruce’s swollen knot for everything it has, and Bruce realizes dully that Jason is coming, too.

By the time they’re both spent, Bruce is breathing hard, chest pressing down on Jason’s back with every inhale. He slowly lets up the pressure on Jason’s neck until it slips from his mouth. Once it does, Jason slumps further forward as if he’s boneless, and Bruce follows, wrapping his arms around his protege and rolling both of them onto their sides.

The post-coital bliss seeps into his senses and chases away any thoughts besides _Jason, Jason, Jason_. In that moment, his only goal is to keep Jason safe and warm and still. He gathers up his shivering ward, kissing at the bite marks on his neck, chest rumbling with noises too soft to count as proper growls. Slowly but surely, Jason’s breathing evens out, and he relaxes in Bruce’s grasp.

They stay like that for twenty, thirty minutes, until the swelling goes down and Bruce can tug his cock out of Jason’s ass with no resistance. A clammy feeling descends over Bruce, and he rests his forehead against Jason’s shoulder blades, staring down at the much smaller body in front of him.

A thin, pearly strand of cum drips out of Jason’s ass. Before he can think about what he’s doing, Bruce growls and shoves two fingers into Jason’s hole, forcing his seed back inside. Jason yelps, but Bruce is quick to kiss and lick his neck, mumbling comforting words into his skin.

“Good, good boy,” he says. “Keep it inside. All of it inside for me. So good for me, Jason. My good boy.”

Jason sighs, one hand drifting down to Bruce’s between his legs. The way he rests it there is equal parts protective and satiated. With a body full of alpha cum, he’ll be able to get some rest at last. That’s all Bruce wants for him. He just wants to give him what he needs.

He adjusts his grip and, fingers still inside, carries Jason up to bed.

 

Jason hardly even stirs when Bruce lays him down and pulls his fingers out. Looking at him, you’d think he padded off to bed after a good dinner, stomach full and mind free of worry.

That is, if you disregarded the mess of his hair, the marks on his neck, and the intoxicating stench that emanated from his abused, pink little hole.

Bruce sucks in a shaky breath and cards a hand through his hair. He knows he should try to clean Jason up, but ( _he looks so good marked up and claimed_ ) he doesn’t trust himself to stick around much longer. Jason could wake up, could look at him again with those pleading eyes, could— could—

After making quick work of tucking the covers around Jason’s body, Bruce turns on his heel and walks out.

Part of him thinks it’s unfair to retreat to his room and shower while Jason still reeks of sex and sweat. The other part thinks it’d be too akin to getting rid of the evidence, bathing Jason, too. He lets the cold, _cold_ water rush over his face and numb his body in the hopes that he might never have to feel anything again. If he freezes his nerves off, it won’t matter how good Jason smells or how well he begs. He won’t get tempted to violate him again.

But while he can still feel, while his own rut still thrums in his veins, he takes hold of his cock and gives it a harsh stroke. One more time, he’ll allow himself to think of Jason, of his legs and his mouth and his eyes and his ass. One more time, he’ll give in.

Just one.

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy? shoot me comments and requests on [tumblr!](https://dicktofen.tumblr.com/) maybe I'll write your idea next!


End file.
